


Its Cold Outside

by leSerpentia



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age II
Genre: Banter, Fluff, Fluff without Plot, Friendship, Gen, Minor Fenris/Hawke, Musical Instruments, POV Varric Tethras, Platonic Relationships, Snowed In, Varric Tethras' Nicknames
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2020-06-25 02:01:49
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,303
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19736101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leSerpentia/pseuds/leSerpentia
Summary: Originally a Secret Santa gift from when I was part of an Dragon age RP.Hawke's gang of misfits are off on a mission and crash at a cabin to avoid a snowstorm. To stave off boredom, Merril finds a lute.Just the DA2 squad being the adorable found family they are.





	Its Cold Outside

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally a Secret Santa gift from when I RP'ed on Wardens Vigil.   
> Figured I might as well post it. Coz I think it's kinda cute.

“Hawke, slow down! Not all of us are part mountain goat.” 

“Come now Varric, surely your dwarvish blood means you can handle a few boulders!” Hawke called over his shoulder as he leapt over another jagged stone.

The mage landed with a light thud in a snowdrift, flakes drifting up in the soft breeze. Grumbling under his breath, Varric flipped off his friend as he followed at a much slower pace, snow easily reaching his hips. Why he had agreed to go on this Maker-foresaken job was beyond him. Why did he even listen to anything Hawke said? Sundermont was no place for a city dwarf, especially this late in the winter months.

“Do you think Hawke really is part mountain goat? Is it a spell? Would he teach me?”

Varric bit back the sarcastic retort as he turned to answer Merril. It would likely have flown right over the sweet girl’s head anyway. “Now Daisy, you don’t seem to be having any problems.”

The Dalish elf flashed him a dazzling smile from under her fur-lined hood. Unlike the others members of their party, Merril casually wandered up the mountain path; barely sinking an inch into the thick layers of snow. Her unusually booted feet seemed to glide above the snowdrifts, finding the buried rocks and foliage with ease. Dusted in white powder, she looked adorable as she scurried after Hawke.

“Not for now. I want to be something cute. Like a kitten, or a nug!” she chimed.

“Because what could be more useful than a Nug Witch?” Fenris replied dryly as he caught up with the rest of the party. Unlike his fellow elf, the warrior was ploughing his way through the snow with a scowl that looked as unhappy as Varric felt.

“Oh I don’t know Fenris – imagine how cute Hawke would look with little kitty ears!” Merril shot back, making Fenris stumble over his own feet. Varric made a note that the pink of Fenris’ cold cheeks had deepened to a ruddy red blush. The elf adjusted his sword and trudged past them both, muttering under his breath in Tevene.

Walking just behind the fuming elf, Varric used the previously disturbed snow to pick up his pace. “Now now Broody, don’t dish it if you can’t take it,” he chided playfully.

“Festus bi umo canavarum,” Fenris mumbled before calling out to Hawke. “How much further to this damn cabin!”

“Yeah!” Varric laughed. “Are we there yet?”

A dark brown head popped up from behind a fallen log and shot a vicious glare in their direction. Varric was not too proud to admit he ducked behind Fenris to avoid the full brunt of Hawke’s ire.

“I will turn this party around!”

Varric chuckled as Merril picked up his line of questioning; rushing up to catch up to their leader, repeatedly asking if they were there yet. As he and Fenris finally crested the latest incline, he was confronted with the sight of Merril bounding around Hawke, peppering him with questions as readily as the snowflakes fell. The snow surrounding him was littered with tiny footprints, disturbed into fluffy piles as Merril danced around the taller human, all but sparkling in the setting sun.

Hawke sent an accusatory look at Varric, who raised his hands in mock surrender. Beside him, Fenris simply shook his head at the sight before them, a small smirk curling his lips. Just over the next ridge, Varric could see a wooden cabin nestled amongst the evergreens, a curl of smoke floating up into grey sky.

***

Varric stood with his back to the crackling fireplace, hoping the heat would soon dry his pants and return feeling to his ass. Wiggling his butt to help evenly dry his snow-soaked clothes, Varric surveyed the cabin around him; now steadily filled with the voices and scents of Hawke’s little gang of misfits.

The others had arrived shortly after they did, Isabela damn near kicking the door in in her haste to be the most dramatic thing in a snowstorm. Anders, Aveline and Sebastian had followed behind her, with Blondie already telling Rivaini off for her actions. The pirate had rebuffed him with a clever quip that Varric wished he had written down, then simply begun discarding her wet outerwear to dump in a soggy pile by the door. Fenris had said something insulting, Anders had taken the bait; and everything had returned to normal.

Everyone had staked their claims on various corners of the room, bedrolls being unfurled and the scarce amount of chairs squabbled over. Isabela had managed to wrestle the one moth-eaten couch from Hawke’s grasp and was draped artistically along its cushions, bare legs tossed carelessly over the arm as she took long swigs from a wineskin. Aveline and Sebastian were bent over a map, muttering seriously – the working stiffs. The crackling of the fire seemed intensely loud to Varric’s ears.

“That’s it! We have to do something or my brain is likely to dissolve from boredom!” Varric declared, throwing his hands up as if to say I give up.

“Not enjoying the tranquillity of the snow dwarf?” Anders asked with a smirk.

“It’s too quiet! I can hear the wind in the trees and literal owls hooting.” Varric complained. “It’s unnatural.”

“The sounds of nature are unnatural?” Fenris drawled from beside Varric, where he sat crossed-legged before the fire. “That makes sense.”

“Of course you like it Broody. Miserably cold nights in the middle of nowhere are too on brand for you not to. Do you need to go stare moodily out a window, or must you wait for a lightning strike to dramatically cut across the sky?”

“I’m happy to assist.” Anders chimed in, purple sparks flickering to life around his fingers.

Rather than reply, Fenris simply hefted the thick leather boots the snow had forced him to wear, and hurled the thing at the mage’s head. Anders dodged away without much effort, and the shoe crashed into the table behind him, sending cups and candles clattering to the floor.

Aveline let out a shout as she ripped the map from harm’s way, before shooting a vicious glare at Fenris. The elf had the gall to look vaguely sorry, his ears drooping slightly under the Guard Captain’s scolding gaze. A snort escaped Anders’ mouth before he could stop it.

“Can’t you find something to entertain yourself? Something that doesn’t involved projectiles.” Aveline glowered.

“How about a game of Wicked Grace?” Varric piped up, moving toward his pack.

“NO!” came the resounding cry from everyone in the cabin. Varric flinched playfully under the onslaught.

“Last time we played, you conned us all out of everything but the clothes on our backs. Isabela didn’t even have that!” Anders explained.

“Don’t act like you didn’t enjoy the view.”

“It’s not one I’m desperate to see again.”

“Liar!”

“Who’s a liar?” Hawke asked as he reappeared from the small backroom, Merril bouncing behind him. He immediately turned his attention to Varric, who let a mischievous grin spread across his face.

“Why are you looking at me Hawke? I just innocently recommended a game of cards.”

Hawke groaned, rolling his eyes. “Not Wicked Grace again.”

“See!” Anders flung a hand toward Hawke, as though his mere reaction was explanation enough.

“Fine, fine! How do you suggest we pass this scintillating evening?” Varric conceded.

“Back on my ship,” Isabela began, and Varric met Anders gaze and rolled his eyes. Everything was about that damn ship with Rivaini. “We passed our evenings with drink and song! Music can help speed up even the most utterly dull evening.”

“And you’re sure that wasn’t the drunken stupor?” Aveline chimed in, not looking up from her map.

“Fun may be intoxicating for those not used to it. Maybe you should leave it to us Big Girl.”

Aveline just groaned before pointedly turning her back to the pirate.

“Oh Oh! I know!” Merril chirped, disappearing again into the backroom. She returned a moment later with a dusty wooden lute. She swiped at the dust briskly, revealing smooth polished timber and stirring a garbled note from the instrument. She grinned sweetly at the rest of the group, like a puppy waiting for praise.

Isabela was happy to oblige, sweeping up from her lounge to cheerily pluck the instrument from Daisy’s arms. “Brilliant kitten.” She replied, and Merril preened under the older woman’s attention.

Relaxing back into her couch, with her legs spread just enough for Merril to drop comfortably between them, Isabella immediately strummed wildly as she began to sing an utterly filthy sea shanty. The instrument made a series of discordant sounds, sharp and crude enough to set Varric’s teeth on edge. He slammed his hands over his ears for comedic effect and groaned, which only made Rivaini crow louder.

“Fasta Vass. You’re going to break the strings.” Fenris snarled as he leaped up from the floor. In two quick strides he reached the couch and snatched the instrument away from Isabela; much to her faux-dismay and everyone else’s relief. Glowering at the grinning pirate, Broody returned to his spot beside Varric, lute still in his arms.

“And how would you know elf?” Anders jabbed. “Did your former masters want a slave that could sing and dance as well as murder?”

Well-used to Blondie’s barbs by now, Fenris simply scowled down at the instrument in his lap. His fingers skimmed gently over the strings, picking carefully at the frets as he passed them, plucking away the collected fluff. His actions held a kind of smooth, almost a repetitive feeling to them; as though they were following old habits.

“My word Broody, can you actually play?” Varric asked incredulously.

The elf’s attention snapped up to him, shock obvious before it returned to his usual glare. He didn’t respond, but his hands wrapped almost protectively around the instrument.

“Can you Fenris?” Merril asked, curiousity piqued. “Would you play something for us? Please!”

“Oh yes,” Isabela added, “I’d love to see your skills at work.”

“I don’t thin—“ Fenris began, only to be interrupted by both woman scurrying off the couch the sit before him, pleading looks on their faces.

“Would you please play Fenris?” Merril had turned up the puppy dog look, all but vibrating in her eagerness.

Isabela took a slightly different approach, her lids lowered slightly and a wicked smirk played on her mouth. “I know you are good with your hands.” She purred.

The tips of Broody’s ears had gone bright red, and Varric chuckled at the look of confused panic on the elf’s face. He looked as though he’d prefer to bolt from the room into the frigid night, but his path was blocked when Hawke joined the pleading women on the floor.

For a massive man, he could still pull the same kind of hopefully puppy look Merril was using very well. Still clad in his armour, the mage hunched low and shot Fenris a look that Varric had seen him use many a time. Half innocent request, half wicked mischief; it was enough to make most people fall for the charming bastard.

And apparently even gloomy Tevinter fugitives were not immune to its power. The elf looked between Hawke, Rivaini and Daisy, and his resolve slowly wore away until he let out a reluctant sigh. Knowing they had won, the three leapt up with a hoot as the elf quickly tuned the instrument.

“Play something fun! No depressing ballads please.” Isabela demanded.

“Yes yes. Something we can dance to!” Merril added.

Fenris chuckled, shaking his head. Hawke smiled down at the elf, at Varric made a note of the affectionate look that passed between the two. Hmm… he’d have to pry into that later.

Varric leaned back against the mantle of the fireplace as Fenris began to play. Quick, lilting notes strung together into a delightful jig; something that would be played at a springtime festival or a feast day. It filled the room, seeming to brighten the cold evening as Merril immediately began to twirl around in time with the melody.

The air seemed to feel lighter, the gloom from outside no longer pressing close to the wooden walls. The lethargy from today’s long trek leeched out of everyone’s muscles and Varric took a deep, slow breath. With a laugh, he watched Rivaini haul a shocked Blondie up and the two began dancing a complicated and ridiculous jig. Aveline and Sebastian had abandoned their work, instead simply watching the antics of their fellow companions.

Hawke leaned against the opposite side of the fireplace, clapping along to the tune with a grin across his face. Only now that it was fading did Varric notice the crease that had marred the mage’s brow. As he watched his friends, his chosen family, cavort around the tiny wooden cabin, Varric saw Hawke relax for what may have been the first time in months. Shoulders finally loosened, jaw finally unclenched, the man finally looked the careful rascal he pretended to be.

Turning back to the frolicking sight before him, Varric felt his own stresses begin to seep away. As the fire and music warmed the room, he took in the scene around him. Absorbed every detail of the light, how the music felt and how the air tasted. Varric memorised Aveline’s quiet smile, the flashing competence of Fenris’ fingers, the giddy sound of Merril’s laughter. He took in the way Isabela rolled her hips as she moved, Anders spinning her back into his arms; the Choir Boy’s surprise at the whole situation. He tried to remember it all, press it into his mind.

Varric knew there would be trouble tomorrow. There was always trouble with Hawke’s little gang. But for tonight, he wanted to memorise how it felt to let these people keep the cold at bay.


End file.
